


Hey Brother

by RandomThingsInLife



Series: Song Verse [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Brother Feels, M/M, Sickfic, q is the third holmes brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomThingsInLife/pseuds/RandomThingsInLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock won't answer his phone, Q gets worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Brother

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely Creative_Creature7572 who asked me for a sick fic with Q as a caregiver.

Quenby Holmes had always been aware of his older brother’s hardships. As the youngest of the Holmes brothers he was generally ignored in favor of praising the young man Mycroft was growing into or bemoaning Sherlock’s mischievousness. Sherlock and Quenby had always been close. Sherlock was aware of his younger Brother’s shyness and was perfectly content to draw all the attention away from the younger, quieter boy. In return Quenby had been content to learn deductions with his brother. Quenby, being a Holmes, of course grew up a genius. His passion was technology. He graduated early, a tradition in the Holmes family. He managed to secure a position in MI6 without Mycroft’s influence. He still kept up with Sherlock who remained his best friend. Mycroft never understood the relationship between the two of them. But it never mattered to them. Mycroft was always heavy handed in his attempts to protect his younger brothers. Quenby was subtle. Sherlock still knew.  


***  


When Dr. Watson moved in with Sherlock, Q was the first to know. Mycroft made up for the deficit by kidnapping the man. Q made no such attempts. Instead he watched quietly.  


When Moriarty appeared, Q helped Sherlock make him disappear.  


Whenever Sherlock needed help with anything he would call Q. Whenever Q needed to he would call Sherlock. They always answered each other. So when Sherlock didn’t answer his phone Q was naturally worried. Luckily things had settled down for the both of them. Considerably so. Meaning that no answer from Sherlock was probably bad.  


“James!” Q called into the flat.  


“Yes love?” James asked, walking into the room.  


“I’m going to go check on my brother.” Q said. “He’s not answering his phone. Which means it’s time to drop in.”  


“Why?” James asked, “He could just be busy.”  


“There’s a code for that. It just rang to his voicemail.” Q said nervously.  


“Why are you so worried about this?” James asked cautiously.  


“The… when it rings to voicemail it’s typically bad news. Sherlock went through a bad spell there for a bit. The last time we had to rush him to the hospital. Mycroft forced him into rehab. His phone ringing to voicemail without there being a coded message for me means bad news.” Q explained.  


James nodded. “Go to your brother. Be safe.” He said, pressing a kiss to Q’s forehead.  


Q nodded absently. According to his cameras and Sherlock’s phone GPS he hadn’t left the flat. He packed up his things and left.  


***  


Q quietly let himself into Sherlock’s flat.  


“Sherlock?” He called hesitantly.  


“Q” Sherlock answered weakly from the couch. He was pale; his dark curls limp and damp against his forehead. Q moved towards him slowly.  


“Alright?” He asked.  


“Alright” Sherlock said.  


Q breathed a sigh of relief. “Have you gotten the flu?” Q asked, amused.  


“Or something.” Sherlock said.  


“Transport gotten the best of you then?” Q quipped, raising an eyebrow.  


“Oh hush,” Sherlock sighed, “You know it happens.”  


Q laughed. “I know. Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” Q said, hauling his brother up off the couch. “You reek. How long have you been laying here?”  


“I’m not certain.” Sherlock mumbled.  


“Where’s your doctor?” Q asked.  


“Off with his sister. They’re trying to reconcile their differences.” Sherlock said absently.  


Q ran a bath for his brother then moved to the kitchen to make something for Sherlock to eat. By the time Sherlock was clean and bundled into a fresh blanket on the couch, Q had finished the tea.  


“Here,” Q said handing, his brother the mug. Sherlock nodded to him as he accepted it. “You’re going to need to eat.” Q said sternly.  


Sherlock grumbled under his breath but nodded. Q went back to the kitchen to cook.  


“Have you alerted the government?” Sherlock called weakly.  


“I think this can remain between us.” Q said easily. Sherlock coughed. Q smiled and focused on the cooking. He vaguely registered the door opening downstairs and the thudding steps up the stairs.  


“You’re cooking?” came a voice from the door.  


Q jumped and spun to face the man. “Uhm, yes.” He said, “You must be John.”  


John nodded and stared at Q. “Is this for a case?” He asked. Q stared. “Sherlock?” John asked stepping forward.  


“Um, not Sherlock.” Q squeaked.  


John rolled his eyes. “Yes, the glasses are a good disguise. Did you get a haircut?” He asked.  


“Um,” Q paused, “Sherlock?” He called.  


“What?” Sherlock groused from the couch.  


“Your- John is home.” Q called.  


“Oh. John. You’re home earlier than I expected.” Sherlock called.  


“He’s sick. We think it’s the flu. It’s mostly run its course by now.” Q said.  


John stared blankly at Q. Sherlock shuffled into the room.  


“Oh sit down you bloody idiot!” Q said shoving his brother into a chair.  


John blinked between them blankly.  


Sherlock huffed.  


“You’re sick, Sherlock. I’ll be damned if I let you make yourself worse. I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself. Now sit down and shut up. Don’t make me get Mycroft involved.” Q said glaring.  


“Um,” John said suddenly, clearing his throat.  


“Right,” Q said. “Hello, I’m Quenby. I’m the youngest Holmes.” Q explained.  


“There’s more?” John said.  


Q smirked at his brother. “You’re in for it.” He said.  


“Sod off.” Sherlock grumped.  


“Wait.” John said. “There are more of you. Let’s get back to that.”  


“I’m the youngest.” Q said. “Don’t be mad. Sherlock isn’t supposed to talk about me,” He shrugged.  


“What?” John asked.  


“Mycroft is the British Government but I’m MI6.” Q smirked.  


“What is wrong with this family?” John said, covering his face with his hands.  


Q laughed. “We are quite the odd lot. I’m the Quartermaster of MI6. Call me Q.”  


“I need a drink.” John said. “You’ll look after him?”  


“Of course. Don’t be too long, doctor. He had quite the welcome home plan.” Q said with a smirk.  


John turned red and quickly made an exit.  


“You should call James. It’s been awhile since the two of you caught up.” Q called after him.  


The door slammed. Q and Sherlock snickered.  


“How is your agent?” Sherlock asked.  


“Can’t you tell?” Q smirked.  


“Yes that’s nice.” Sherlock said dryly.  


***  


A few hours later John returned supported by a far more sober James.  


“What a hero.” Q quipped. James winked at him before putting John to bed.  


“Leave.” Sherlock said, ushering them out of the flat.  


“You’re a good brother.” James said on their way home.  


“Yeah sure. Don’t let Mycroft know. He’ll come round more often.” Q teased.  


“We wouldn’t want that now would we?” James teased, dragging Q into the flat.


End file.
